


Hold Your Horses

by Fedora Of Adorableness (TheTimelessChild0)



Series: Omovember 2020 [17]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Desperation, Omovember 2020, Protective Peter Burke, Urination, omovember 17, peeing in a bottle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/Fedora%20Of%20Adorableness
Summary: And your pee. Especially your pee.
Series: Omovember 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987816
Kudos: 4
Collections: WC²





	Hold Your Horses

“They can’t all be cops,” Neal grumbled, looking around at the cars. “Is someone hosting Coachella at our crime scene?”

“It’s what you get from a grid system. It locks,” Peter muttered in agreement.

“What does your tech-y talk-y Taurus say about our ETA?”

“We’re not going anywhere for a while,” he summarised.

“Well, that’s gonna be a problem for me,” Caffrey sighed, shuffling slightly in his seat, using his hands to adjust his position, gently nudging closer to the leather.

“In what way?”

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Neal stated, half frowning with one eyebrow, all too aware of his own quandary.

“How badly?” Peter frowned, showing the utmost sympathy, despite the difficult circumstances.

“How long are we gonna be stuck here?” the con man raised an eyebrow, pointedly.

“ _Nevermind_. But..right now, you’re fine,” Burke observed.

  
“I’m cowboying up as best I can, but the longer we sit here, the more likely I’m gonna lose control of my.. _saddle_ ,” Neal remarked.

Peter responded by calling Diana. 

“No openings on your end?” he verified.

“None. How’s it looking back there?” Berrigan replied.

  
“Like I’m stuck inside a box of steel-plated _sardines_ ; oh, and we’ve got a little situation to boot,”

“What kind of situation?” Diana asked, confused.

“Caffrey’s queuing up for a 10-100,” Peter informed her.

“ _Okay_ , bye-bye,” Neal interrupted, hanging up. His face was tinted pink. “Seriously?” he complained.

“What? I didn’t say anything,” Burke claimed.

“Please. I listen to police radio, I know the codes,”

“Would you rather I used _morse_? Neal, she was gonna find out eventually. If not now, me heading towards a coffee shop in the opposite direction would give her a pretty good _clue_ ,” Peter defended.

Neal rubbed his legs and crossed them. 

“Do you still have the bottle?” he was forced to ask.

“Of course,” Burke confirmed, grabbing it from its established location.

Caffrey put the bottle on the inside of his door. 

“Just keeping it close, y’know...for _insurance_ purposes,”

* * *

The only movement in the vicinity was Neal crossing his legs, moving them from side to side. 

“ _God_ ...that’s it! Mozzie’s right; from now on, I’m taking the _subway,_ ” he announced exasperatedly.

“Or you could just try to remember to go before you leave,” Peter advised.

“That’s another option,” Caffrey conceded vaguely.

* * *

Neal had slipped two hands between his legs as a “buffer”. His feet were tapping in the floor fervently.

“There has to be a hole somewhere...” he griped.

“Maybe you should use the bottle,” Peter recommended.

“No! Not until we can be certain there’s no other way. Somewhere ahead of us is a bathroom, and I’m gonna keep trying to get to it,” Caffrey resolved.

The car kept nudging forward, with Neal’s constant complaint, and Burke’s concerned frown getting progressively deeper.

The con man abruptly leaned forward, hands on the edges of his seat pressing.

“ _Neal,_ ” Peter implored quietly.

“I can’t. Not while the car is still moving. I can’t aim into that small a hole while we’re in _motion_ ,” he argued.

“Look; Forget it. Face it, you’re not making it to a bathroom at this point, certainly not our makeshift one if you’re gonna wait until we’re completely _stuck_ . Besides; stuck means a lot longer than just one hour, and you’re not the only one who had coffee this morning. So, unless you _want_ everyone around us to know what you’ve done..”. Burke warned.

“ _Peter_..” Neal protested. “wait...how would they know _I_ did it?”

“Whoever empties the bottle, the result is the same. If you do it, it’s not hard to leap to the right conclusion. If I do it..well, no one dumps it on the road unless there’s someone else in the car with them. Which makes them one of two people- the one who’s using it, or the one who already _did_ ,” he explained.

“ _OK!_ Just don’t look,” Caffrey surrendered, picking up the bottle again.

The Suit turned to his window, admiring the pile-up of cars that had led to this. 

Neal flicked the bottle cap towards the windshield, put the bottle between his legs as he unzipped; and carefully aimed into the bottle.

The urgency gave him the haste he needed to get a good rhythm going _before_ the car nudged forward again. He adjusted the distance accordingly, with no collateral damage.

“Ahhh.. _mm_..that feels good” he murmured.

The nudges stopped being counterproductive, as the CI leaned back and used the gyrations to his advantage, helping the flow remain steady. 

“Jesus _fucking_ christ,” Neal intoned, putting himself back in his pants, and covering up.

He leaned forward to retrieve the cap when he realised his handler was still averting his eyes.

“Oh, and you can turn around now,” he chuckled.

Peter did so, smiling at the visibly calmer gentleman next to him.

He was about to remind him to _zip_ back up, when Caffrey requested hand sanitiser.

“I think there’s some in the glove compartment,” Burke guessed. This assumption was correct. 

Neal had only just leaned back with his fingers superficially grazing the sides on his thighs, when a familiar, often amused female voice sounded on the starboard side.

“Hey,” Diana announced her presence.

“Oh, hey Berrigan,” Burke greeted.

“Hi,” Neal added.

“Barn door,” she smirked.

Caffrey looked down and confirmed her statement. His fly was _wide open_. 

“Oh..sorry,” he commented awkwardly, righting himself.

“Please, you know I’m not fazed,” Diana assured him.

“And I also know _why_ ,” Neal agreed.

“I see you’re hydrating,” she said, about the bottle in the cupholder. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged and nodded.

“Didn’t know Gatorade came in _lemon-lime_ ,” Berrigan noted, feigning curiosity.

“I don’t recommend it,” Caffrey quipped, going along with the theatrics.

“Noted,” she, very _obviously_ , held back a laugh as she left.

Neal had his hand over his eyes, cringing.

“Now I’m _really_ glad I didn’t wait. That would’ve been monumentally more embarrassing,” he remarked.

Peter squeezed his shoulder amicably, turning in the radio.

Soon, the con man was stomping his feet on the floor mat for an entirely _different_ reason...

  
  
  


The End.


End file.
